Time Search

by Danele J Rotharmel

  Pushing away her morbid thoughts, she glanced at Karl. Because they couldn’t take photographs inside the crypt, he was getting ready to take her picture outside the church.

  “How should I pose?” she asked.

  “What message do you want to send your rascally brother?”

  Angelina pursed her lips and thought. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes and shook her finger at the camera.

  Karl snapped the picture. “I take it that Alex is toast?”

  Angelina ran a shaking hand through her hair. “My dear baby brother is way beyond toast. He’s a charcoal briquette. He just doesn’t know it yet. It may take a while for me to come up with a fitting response to his practical joke, but what I lack in speed, I’ll make up for with impact. This is definitely a just you wait, Henry Higgins moment.”

  ~*~

  In Washington D.C., a noise jerked Nicole awake. Throwing off her covers, she sprinted for the door. Her nightgown tangled around her legs. Gathering it up in her hand, she rushed down the stairs two at a time.

  In the living room, Zeke was flailing on the sofa bed. His bare chest was gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. His long legs were tangled in his blankets. He was crying out and punching the air.

  Nicole’s first instinct was to shake him awake, but he was thrashing so wildly that she knew he might accidentally hit her. Even if the blow fell while he was asleep and powerless to stop it, he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.

  Feeling shivery inside, Nicole reached for a glass of water on the coffee table. Edging as close to Zeke as she safely could, she flicked water over his face. His thrashing slowed. As he awoke, he sat up and huddled against the back of the sofa. His hands were shaking as he brushed the water away.

  She took him in her arms. “Was it a bad dream?”

  Zeke’s golden eyes were full of horror. “A b-bad memory.”

  “About Robyn?”

  He nodded. “I promised to take her fishing that morning, but I broke my promise.”

  Holding him close, she waited.

  Zeke breathed shuddering words against her shoulder. “I was thirteen, and I’d spent the night at my friend Gary’s. We were building a fort by the river. The next morning, I knew Robyn was waiting for me, but Gary and I wanted to finish our fort. I knew she would be disappointed, but I thought I could make it up to her.”

  Nicole stroked his hair as he continued, “After lunch, I went home to get her. When I got to the porch, I saw that she had our fishing gear laid out and a picnic basket filled with food. I felt guilty, but I still thought I could make it up to her. Then I heard the yelling…”

  Zeke’s whole body shook. “I always tried to protect Mom when my father went at her. I’d get between them and take some of the blows myself. My father had broken my nose three times already, and from the sounds coming from inside, I figured I was in for a fourth. When I ran to the living room, Mom was huddled on the couch. I saw my father take a gun and put it to her head.”

  Knowing what was coming, Nicole squeezed his hand.

  A shudder ripped through his body. “The back of Mom’s head just blew away. The white wall behind her exploded in red. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. About that time, Robyn caught sight of me. She’d been hiding in the corner behind the couch. Robyn screamed my name and tried to run to me. My father turned on her. I don’t know if he would’ve known she was there if she hadn’t moved. I knew what he was going to do. I tried to stop him, but when I grabbed his arm, he threw me against the wall…then he shot Robyn.”

  Zeke turned haunted eyes to Nicole. “Robyn was screaming my name when she was shot. She was screaming my name, and I couldn’t help her. She was screaming my name…”

  As his voice trailed away, Nicole held him and murmured, “And then your father shot you, and he shot himself.”

  He nodded. “He fell on top of me. His dead body pinned me down. Robyn didn’t die right off. I heard her breath gurgling in her throat. She was still trying to call my name when her breathing stopped. I couldn’t get to her.”

  Zeke shuddered. “It’s my fault, Nicole. If I’d taken Robyn fishing like I promised, she wouldn’t have been in the house. If I hadn’t come home when I did, she might’ve stayed hidden. If I’d been strong enough to fight off my father, she might not have been shot. If I could’ve gone to her, she wouldn’t have died alone, calling my name.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “It’s your father’s fault. Robyn’s last moments were focused on you because she trusted you and knew you’d try to help her.”

  “I failed her.”

  “Your father failed her. You were the person who gave her hope.”

  Burying his face against her neck, he said brokenly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help her. So very sorry.”

  “I know that, and so does Robyn.”

  He raised his eyes to hers. “I love you, Nicole. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  Nicole put her hands firmly on both sides of his face. “You would go on with your life knowing that no matter what had happened, I didn’t blame you.”

  “I can’t let anything hurt you.” His voice was panicked. “I failed Robyn. I can’t fail you!”

  She shook her head. “Zeke, you’re not God. You can’t stop some things from happening. You can’t carry around guilt like this, or it will destroy you.” She brushed the rumpled hair away from his forehead. “When you were a boy, and these feelings overwhelmed you, what helped?”

  Zeke shuddered. “Marc helped. He was my time counselor. He talked me through the guilt and pain.”

  Nodding, she pulled him close. Outwardly, she was calm—but inwardly, her thoughts were whirling. Marc had helped Zeke, but Marc had just become guilty of hurting a girl that Zeke had been trying to protect. She knew Marc’s betrayal was causing Zeke’s flashbacks, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Eventually, Zeke’s breathing became less ragged. Pulling away from her, he said, “You should go back upstairs now.”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “Then you need to put on a robe.”

  Nicole huffed. “You’re as skittish as an old granny. If you don’t like what I’m wearing, close your eyes.”

  “Nicole—”

  “I’m staying here tonight, and you’re going to let me. Nothing inappropriate is going to happen, and we both know it.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Propriety—”

  An agent knocked and entered the room. “Everything all right in here? I was doing my rounds and saw the lights.”

  “We’re fine,” Zeke replied.

  As the agent left the room, Nicole chuckled. “Talk about being busted! You don’t have to worry about propriety. We’re surrounded by tons of armed chaperones.”

  “It isn’t their responsibility to keep us on the straight and narrow.” Zeke sighed. His voice sounded incredibly weary. “Nicole, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but please go back upstairs. This looks bad, and it isn’t appropriate.”

  She hesitated. He was incredibly pale, and she didn’t want to leave him.

  “Please, Nicole.”

  Hearing the firmness in his tone, she knew it was pointless to keep arguing. She could tell he was at his breaking point, and she didn’t want to cause him more stress. Giving him another hug, she nodded and climbed the stairs. Her jaw tightened as she reached her room. She fully intended on peeking through the banisters several times during the night in order to check on him.

  ~*~

  As she had every night since her nightmares began, Crystal attempted to throw off her fear. Knowing she couldn’t go back to sleep, she changed into street clothes and decided to hit a laundromat. The way she figured it, if she couldn’t snooze, she might as well do some chores.

  Trying to leave the house was easier said than done because she couldn’t find her bottle of laundry detergent. In exasperation, she tore her home apart looking for it. In
the process, she found her frying pan in the bathtub, her cookie jar in the broom closet, and her tennis shoes hanging by their laces from a light fixture. Twenty minutes later, she finally found her laundry detergent in the refrigerator sandwiched between the orange juice and the milk.

  Standing in the kitchen holding the cold bottle of detergent in her hand, she shuddered. If she kept walking in her sleep, she would need to seek professional help. She didn’t know what caused sleepwalking, but her nocturnal wanderings seemed to be escalating.

  “If this keeps up,” she muttered, “it’ll be just like it if I decide to take a midnight stroll in traffic or attempt to rewire a plugged-in lamp.”

  Balancing the bottle of detergent on top of her laundry basket, she headed for the door. Passing by her living room window, she saw something written in red lipstick on the glass. Leaning forward, she read, The scent of orchards in the rain.

  The laundry basket fell from Crystal’s hands. She sagged against the wall and shut her eyes. She knew that line. It was from Sara Teasdale’s poem, “Since There is No Escape.” The poem was all about the inevitability of death and the utter destruction of one’s body in the grave.

  Shivering, she mumbled, “If I had to leave myself a message, why couldn’t I have chosen a less morbid one?”

  27

  June 13, 6:06 AM

  Alex Ableman’s Cabin

  Creekdale, Colorado

  Phoebe awoke to a brilliant sunrise that was turning the Rocky Mountains a deep, rosy pink. Pain seared through her heart as she remembered the events of the previous day. Deciding to take a walk and clear her thoughts, she dressed quickly and slipped quietly through the living room. Alex was sound asleep on the sofa. He was still in his blue shirt and nice dress slacks from the night before, but they were crumpled and wrinkled. His hair was sticking up in wild tufts, and he needed a shave. The shadow of whiskers on his face made him look manly, and in a strange way, surprisingly vulnerable. Hardening her heart against him, she left the cabin.

  ~*~

  Drake paced back and forth, picturing the elevator in his mind. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to remember who had been standing next to Thomas Moosly. Suddenly, it came to him.

  “Sam and Sue,” he murmured, a grin curling his lips. “Dan’s parents. How…quaint.”

  Picking up the phone, he dialed information.

  “Welcome to directory assistance,” a recorded voice intoned. “What city and state?”

  “Charlesberg, Colorado,” he replied.

  “What listing?”

  “Samuel Ableman.”

  “One moment, please.” After a second, the recorded voice gave him the number. “Would you like to be connected at no additional charge?”

  “Yes,” Drake replied.

  A few seconds later, the phone was picked up by an answering machine. You have reached the home of Pastor Sam Ableman and his lovely wife, Sue. We’re not available to take—

  Slamming the phone down, Drake redialed information. This time, he asked for the phone number of Sam’s church. Within minutes, he was connected.

  “Charlesberg Community Church,” a lady said. “This is Henrietta. How may I direct your call?”

  “I need to talk with Pastor Ableman.”

  “I’m sorry,” Henrietta replied. “Pastor Sam and his wife are out of town.”

  “Oh?” Drake said, his brows lowering. “When do you expect them back?”

  “Not for several weeks, I’m afraid. Would you like to speak with our associate pastor?”

  Giving a guttural shout of pure rage, Drake flung the phone across the room. Swearing wildly, he kicked a chair. Suddenly, he paused. Retrieving the phone, he dialed the church’s number.

  “Charlesberg Community Church,” Henrietta said. “How may I direct your call?”

  Drake cleared his throat. “I was speaking with you a moment ago, but my dog yanked the phone from my hands. I’m afraid I lost you.”

  “So that’s what it was.” Henrietta laughed. “I wondered why we’d been disconnected.”

  “Yes, well, I’m in a bit of a quandary, and I’m hoping you can help,” Drake said. “I’m an old college friend of Dan Ableman’s. I’m in D.C., and I’d like to visit him. Unfortunately, he and his wife are out of town. I was wondering if you knew where they went or when they’ll be back.”

  “I don’t really know,” Henrietta replied. “You’re in Washington D.C. right now?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, why don’t you ask Angelina about Dan? She’ll know.”

  “Who is Angelina?”

  “Dan’s sister. She lives in Washington D.C., and she and Dan are as close as two peas in a pod. I’m sure he has left his itinerary with her. Let me get you her address.”

  ~*~

  With her laundry folded neatly and stowed in her trunk, Crystal waited for Marc by the vending machines. She’d spent her time in the laundromat praying and getting her feelings under control. She had succeeded so well that she was able to greet Marc with a sunny smile when he walked in carrying cappuccinos.

  As they opened their Bibles, she said, “What do you want to study?”

  “What have you been studying?” he asked, taking a drink.

  “I’ve just finished Second Peter, and I was getting ready to start First John,” she replied, pushing a box of frosted donuts toward him.

  “Sounds good to me,” he said, taking one.

  After reading the first chapter out loud, they had a lively discussion about what it meant to walk in the light. Crystal was impressed by Marc’s grasp of spiritual topics. She knew her grandparents would have enjoyed talking with him.

  “How about if we memorize a few verses from our reading assignment?” Crystal asked when their discussion wound down.

  Nodding, Marc grabbed another donut. “Let’s make First John 1:9-10 our first assignment. ‘But if we confess our sins to Him, He can be depended on to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong. (And it is perfectly proper for God to do this for us because Christ died to wash away our sins.) If we claim we have not sinned, we are lying and calling God a liar, for He says we have sinned.’”

  “I like those verses,” Crystal said, taking a sip of her cappuccino. “They keep me honest. None of us like admitting that we’ve blown it, but we all have. And when we blow it, the only place to go is straight to Jesus. He’ll always forgive us.”

  Marc caught her gaze. “I sure blew it when I hurt you the other night. I’ll never forget the way you freely forgave me. It was like seeing a living example of Christ’s love.”

  She smiled and blushed. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “Cris, I—”

  The cell phone in her purse rang. Answering it, she listened anxiously as Nicole relayed a brief message from Zeke.

  “Who was that?” Marc asked when the call was finished.

  Crystal’s brow furrowed. “Nicole. Evidently, there was lots of Wave Trapper activity yesterday. None of it was connected with Drake, but I guess it kept Zeke on his toes. Before he left headquarters, he programmed the warning system to alert him remotely, but there wasn’t any late-night activity. Nicole said he’s about to sever the remote link. We’re supposed to monitor the warning system in headquarters. She said Zeke isn’t coming in until later. He had a pretty rough night.”

  “If there wasn’t any portal activity after he left headquarters, why was it such a hard night?”

  “I think we both know why,” Crystal replied, raising her eyes to his. “I think we need to pray for him.”

  Marc swallowed hard and nodded. Together, they bowed their heads.

  ~*~

  In Rome, Angelina and Karl entered the portico of the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin looking for La Bocca della Verità—the Mouth of Truth. When they found it, Angelina stared at it in wonder. The stone disk featuring a manlike face was much larger than she’d anticipated.

  “Is it true that this
huge disk was a manhole cover?” she asked.

  “No one is really sure,” Karl replied. “Some think it was part of a fountain. I’ve even heard that it was used to trap the bad smell coming from dirty river water—I suppose people thought the gaping mouth sucked in the stench.”

  As Angelina peered at the stone face with interest, Karl lowered his voice to a thrilling whisper. “Legend says this disk is a lie detector—that’s why it’s called the Mouth of Truth. If you lie when your hand is in the mouth, your hand will be bitten off.”

  Angelina laughed. “What a bloodcurdling thought. Who comes up with these legends?”

  Smiling, Karl shrugged his shoulders.

  “Well,” Angelina said, “barring the need for immediate medical attention should this stone fellow prove feisty, I suggest we take a picture for Alex and then get something to eat. I’m starving, and I’d love another Macedonia gelato before we leave for the airport.”

  “Does that mean you’re brave enough to put your hand in the Mouth of Truth and answer questions?”

  “You bet.” She started to put her hand in the mouth but hesitated. Bending over, she peeked inside the gapping void.

  “Checking for teeth?” Karl chuckled.

  “No. Checking for spiders.” She placed her hand inside the mouth. “Go ahead. Ask away.”

  “Is your name Mirabella Jenkins?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied.

  “Do you play a violin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you ever want to get married?”

  Laughing, she kept her hand in the mouth. “Of course.”

  “Do you want to marry me?”

  Gasping, Angelina studied Karl’s face.

  Raising his camera, he prepared to take her picture. “Moment of truth, Miss Ableman. Remember, the stone disk is listening, and a violinist can’t afford to lose a hand. Do you want to marry me?”